Invisible Touch
by IronMaidensRevenge
Summary: On a routine hunt, Dean is suddenly hit by a curse of bad luck, and Sam and Dean must find out what it is before it kills him. Hurt!Dean Protective!Sam
1. Chapter 1

This story was inspired by a dream I had, wayyy back to the night right after Bad Day at Black Rock. I thought there should have been a little more Hurt!Sam...and my brain gave me a crap load of Hurt!Dean. lol my brain never ceases to amaze me. Anyway, so this is part 1/2, and this story is already finished, so quick update! Promise!

Disclaimer: Not even in my dreams

**Invisible Touch**

"Come on, man! You've got to be kidding me!" Dean complained, looking and feeling like a sad and lost child.

"I wish I was, Dean!" Sam argued. "But unless you can come up with something else, this is the only way to get rid of those things."

Dean just nodded, looking down and away from his brother. This was all pretty much adding up to the worst day in his life. Well, not as bad as the day after Sam had died, but it was a close second. He felt like crap. He was covered in bruises and he ached in places that he didn't know could ache. All he wanted to do was take a hot shower and go to sleep so he could forget this day, or better yet this whole week. Or maybe just skip the shower. Standing kind of sucked at the moment.

And it was all because of a stupid amulet.

--oo--

The Winchester brothers had arrived at yet another town in the middle of nowhere Indiana. The job was fairly straightforward, just a simple salt and burn. The ghost of a previous owner of a rather stately mansion had taken to killing random teenagers who thought it would be fun to break into the house. According to the information Sam had gotten from his research, the ghost was of an old lady who had died rather violently while her grandchildren were visiting her fifty years ago. The grandchildren had not been suspects in her death. Though there was a grave for her in the local cemetery, there had been no body. Which meant more frantic searching, much to Dean and Sam's annoyance.

A search back in the house had finally produced results. They found that the body had been hidden underneath the floorboards in the attic, not the easiest thing to uncover without falling through the ceiling. But neither of them had sustained anything more than a small bruise or two from flying furniture and general disagreement from the spirit. With the body dealt with and the spirit gone from the mansion, they packed and cleaned up the mess and prepared to leave with a job well done.

That is, until they were just about to leave when Dean spotted an old, dusty amulet on a gold chain. The amulet had odd and captivating designs that he had never seen before. He did not know what happened to his common sense, but it had definitely been M.I.A. when he decided to curiously pick it up and put it into his pocket for further examination.

Very soon afterward, it became evident something was wrong. Dean didn't just trip over random things. Multiple times. For the rest of the day and that night, objects seemed to go out of their way to make him trip, smack into something, or go face first into a door when he rounded a corner.

Sam tried to cover his smiles of amusement and occasional bouts of laughter while he researched the next morning to find out exactly what the damn thing was. But his laughter soon died down and he grew serious as his research took over. Dean began cleaning and checking his guns for lack of a better thing to do. It didn't help that the guns kept slipping from his usually adept hands. But bad luck be damned, he was going to finish cleaning his guns!

There was silence between the brothers except for the occasional _thunk_ followed by a quiet curse coming from Dean's side of the room. After a solid two or three hours of Sam's silent searching, he finally had something of an answer.

"Dean, you're never going to believe this."

_Uh oh. Not good._ "What is it?"

"Well for starters, that amulet is cursed to anyone who touches it-"

_Thunk. _"Son of a BITCH! Wow, no shit Sherlock. I'm so glad you spent two plus hours of research to find _that _out," Dean ranted as he seized the gun off the floor and practically threw it onto the bed, fed up with everything. Sam just stared at Dean, completely unfazed. "Are you done?"

Dean's anger faded. He sighed and sat down in the chair opposite Sam. "Yeah. What else you got?"

"Okay, so the amulet is cursed to anyone who touches it. There are no accounts of it in the U.S., but in Europe the list of supposed owners is endless. It originated somewhere in a very early European culture, from what I could find. This thing is a legend all on its own, and it's just short of a miracle that we stumbled upon it," Sam said, clearly excited.

Sam continued before Dean could speak again. "I started research on items that bring bad luck, since that's obviously what seems to be happening-"

"Just like that rabbits foot! You know, at Black Rock a couple months ago…" Dean interrupted grinning, and waggled his eyebrows.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, sort of like that. Except the rabbit's foot brought good luck, which turned bad once it was lost. This one just gave you straight bad luck from the moment it was touched. Which wouldn't really be questionable except for that fact that this," Sam pointed to the stone design in the middle amulet, which was on the bedside table. "This is a Nazar."

"A what?"

"It's a very old Turkish talisman. For _good _luck." Sam emphasized the last point.

Dean looked baffled. "Then why the hell am I getting all this bad luck? I should be winning more lottery tickets, dammit!"

"I'm thinking it's been cursed, but I have to do some more research to be sure."

"Ugh, fine, but hurry up. I don't have all day."

"You can pitch in any time you feel like…"

"Yeah, but you already started. I wouldn't want to ruin your fine research."

"Whatever, dude."

The research continued on Sam's part and Dean tried his best to wait patiently.

He was just about to start pestering Sam when his brother got up with his laptop balanced in hand and started comparing the amulet to images on the screen.

"I don't believe it…" Sam muttered to himself, his hand hovering over the odd amulet, careful not to touch it.

"What'd you find?"

"This amulet _is _cursed. Very cleverly too."

"Well, who cursed it and why?" Dean asked, picking up the amulet from the bedside table to look at it more closely.

"That's just it. The question is not _who_ cursed it. It's _what_ cursed it," Sam explained patiently.

"Okayyy. I assume you know _what_ it is?" Dean asked less patiently.

"You're never going to believe this. I mean this is farfetched, even for us-"

"There's not much you can say that will surprise me, Sammy."

"It's pixies, Dean."

Silence. "Except that…. What?"

"Pixies. You picked up an amulet that was cursed by pixies or faeries or goblins or whatever you want to call them. See this design right here?" Sam pointed to the silver encasing the Nazar, looking almost like a Celtic knot. "This is from a design found in the Lisheen Ruins."

Dean thought for a second. "That sounds familiar. Where have I heard that before?"

"The Ruins in Ireland? It's probably one of the most haunted places in the world. According to local lore, the wooded area around the Lisheen Castle, called The Rath, is occupied by faeries. And faeries in Irish lore are known for their mischief and misfortune."

"Okay, so I just got a little bad luck from pixie things, we can fix that no big deal."

Sam chewed his lip a little nervously. "Right?" Dean asked for confirmation.

"Not exactly. It's bad enough that you're cursed, but they're the ones doing the cursing."

"Wait, wait, wait, so you're saying that I have little Tinker Bells following me around? Why haven't I seen them? Why haven't you?" Dean said, still struggling to put it all together.

"They must make themselves invisible. And the moment you touch that thing, they are attracted to you and will never leave you alone until let someone else touch the charm and pass on the curse."

A thought struck Dean. "So this is probably why that old lady died!" Sam stared at him as if he was missing something.

"Oh… this is why the old lady died," Dean said in a more subdued voice, staring with disgust at the little pendant that was causing so much trouble. "And the others who touched this…?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "Anyone who's touched it died. It must have been a gift to that old lady from her grandchildren or something, because no one's supposed to live passed a week if they can't get rid of it in time."

"What's with the seven day timeline?" Dean asked to himself and sat quiet for a moment, pondering. "So, what's the bad news?"

Sam grinned and rolled his eyes. "It looks like there's a spell to take the curse away, but I'm going to call Bobby to see what he thinks. Man, he's going to blow a gasket when he finds out what you did."

Dean laughed. "I know I'm kinda feeling sorry for the old man."

"Me too. Give me thirty minutes, then we'll go get something to eat."

"Can't I just go-"

"No!" Sam quickly cut Dean off. "You're not moving until we figure this out." Sam smirked mischievously. "Don't even scratch your nose."

"Always throwin' that in my face, Sammy. Fine, look." Dean moved his chair so he could see the TV better, turned it on, and propped his feet up on one of the beds. "See, I'm not moving."

Unfortunately, Dean was bored within seconds. _Who the hell invented daytime TV? This is getting ridiculous._ Sam had only been talking to Bobby for ten minutes when Dean began looking for another form of entertainment. Sam was deeply engrossed in whatever Bobby was saying. Perfect.

He resorted to leaning his chair back and letting it fall back in place with a _thud_, leaning it farther and farther back each time. Sam duly ignored him, which only prompted Dean to keep going.

_Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud… "_Woah!" _BAM._

Sam turned around just in time to see flailing arms before Dean and the chair flew backwards onto the floor. "Dean, would be quiet please? I'm trying to talk to Bobby."

"I can't win, can I?" Dean muttered. He thought he could hear cackles of laughter coming from somewhere. _I'm going to kill them myself._

Instead of getting up, he put his hands behind his and stared at the ceiling, waiting for Sam to be done. _Oh gross, is that a stain? How did that get on the ceiling? Maybe I don't want to know…_

"Okay, thanks, Bobby. We appreciate it." Sam snapped his phone shut and looked over at his brother, still lying on the ground.

"You ready to eat?"

"When am I ever not ready to eat?" Dean was up and out the door, jacket and keys in hand, before Sam could respond.

--oo--

"I swear, Dean, you make my bad luck look like a joke!" Sam teased as they walked back into the motel room. "It's a good thing we ordered everything to go, or you'd be wearing it by now."

"Ugh, shut up. Just gimme my food, I'm starving," Dean growled. He had tripped no less than ten times _over nothing_ and had a bucket of water dumped on him by some old lady (_who the hell did that anymore??)_. And he didn't even want to think of all the near misses with the cars and bicycles and people. It wasn't that hard to avoid one person was it? For all the energy he had earlier, he was beginning to feel tired and grumpy and fed up with this day. "So what did Bobby come up with? Please tell me we can get rid of these little bitches," Dean asked through a mouthful of food.

"Yes, we can…"

"…But?" Sam still hesitated. Not a reassurance at all.

"Don't freak out okay?" At Dean's nod, he continued. "But we figured out that we have to let them… draw your blood."

"What?!"

"Dean, just let me explain! The ritual has two parts. The first is going to make the pixies visible. Once they're visible, they become vulnerable as well. But part of that is to let the pixies draw the cursed one's blood. We aren't sure how much, but it's gotta be enough to fuel the spell. And we're going to have to go back to the mansion because it's 'the dwelling of the last owner'. Bobby and I checked everywhere for something else." Sam shrugged and looked up through his bangs sheepishly at his brother.

"Come on, man! You've got to be kidding me!" Dean complained, looking and feeling like a sad and lost child.

"I wish I was, Dean!" Sam argued. "This is the only way to get rid of those things. It's either that or your life." And he'd be damned if he was going to let Dean go downstairs ahead of schedule.

Dean looked at Sam's distressed face and nodded. He knew Sam and Bobby would have scoured every place possible to keep him as far from harm's way as they could.

"Okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Okay."

* * *

Good? Bad? Shouldn't bother with the next chapter?

The second chapter will be up sometime next week regardless lol, unless you want me to put it up sooner.


	2. Chapter 2

Last chapter! This chapter has the bit that was inspired by my dream! Yayyy Hurt!Dean! Anyway, enjoy! Leave reviews, they're like cookies!

**That night**

Sam and Bobby's research had paid off, and after a few hours of gathering supplies, getting the ritual words just right, and returning to the old mansion outside of town, they were finally ready. Well, as ready as they could be.

"Okay, so here's how it's going to work," Sam said to Dean as he finished preparing the last bit of the ritual. "I'm going to be saying the spell, while I'm outside this circle," Sam indicated to the chalk drawn circle in the middle of the floor. They had picked the biggest room in the house so they would have enough space. It also turned out to be the most lavish and thoroughly decorated room. "You are going to stand on the inside of the circle, and you _cannot_ step out of it."

"Or what? I'll die?" Dean quipped.

Sam paused for a second. "Something like that."

"Serious? I was just kidding."

"Yeah, well just don't go outside."

"Okay got it. I assume that's it for my part?"

"Pretty much. The rest is all me."

"I don't like this, Sammy. I'm supposed to be helping you. This is my mess, I'm the one who should be cleaning it up."

Sam looked at Dean and smiled wanly. "It's my turn to save you for a change."

Dean made a face. "Yeah, whatever. Let's get this done huh?"

The last preparations were complete, so it was just the actual ritual that had to be done. Dean took the amulet out of his pocket, hung it around his neck (though he was loathe to put it anywhere near the amulet his brother gave him), and placed himself in the center of the circle. Sam lit the candles that surrounded the circle at four points, doing a quick once over of everything, making sure it was done to perfection. "Okay, I'm ready. Are you?"

"Yeah. Let's kick us some fairy ass," Dean said, taking up a fighters stance.

The brothers shared one last look before Sam started to recite the spell, the ancient words flowing uncertain, but steady from him. Almost immediately, a wind began swirling around, causing the candles and lights to flicker and any loose papers and small decorations to be tossed about the room.

Sam's voice gained intensity with the wind, and Dean stood solidly in the middle of the chalk and candles. He searched nervously for any sign of attack. He knew the pixies were there they just couldn't see them. Sam hadn't activated that part of the spell yet. Whatever the sneaky bastards were going to do, it was going to be quick and brutal.

"Can you see them yet?" Dean yelled above the wind, ducking a book as it hurtled towards his face.

Sam was hunched over slightly, trying to prevent the gale from ripping the pages from his hands, and still reading the words. He was completely defenseless if anything attacked him. But, with luck, Dean thought, they would ignore Sam and go for him. _Better make sure of that_.

"Show yourselves you fugly bastards! Come out and fight!" Dean roared. Suddenly pain exploded through him and he sank down to one knee, gripping his hunting knife, which was now firmly lodged in his side. He had held back a shout of pain, so Sam still didn't know what happened. He yanked out the knife and blood poured from him and onto the floor. A bright blue flash erupted from nowhere followed by high cackles of laughter.

_Well the situation can't get much worse now… _The thought flew unbidden through Dean's mind as he struggled to control the pain.

A flurry of blunt objects were thrown at him with such force, he saw stars each time one was lucky enough to hit him. He dodged as many as he could, muttering curses all the while. _Freakin' circle, that I can't freakin' step out of, or I'll freakin' __die__._

"That the best you can do?" Dean shouted out the challenge. _Okay, maybe not the smartest idea._

Suddenly, Sam stopped reciting the spell, and straightened up.

"Dude, what are you doing? Keep reading!" Slowly, Sam walked to the wall by the overlarge fireplace and reached up to take something off of the wall. He couldn't see what it was through the wind still whipping objects about the room.

"Sam…?" Dean swayed and fought to stay standing, but was concerned by Sam's strange behavior. His brother slowly came back over to Dean, hiding his face, and the thing he had removed from the wall.

Sam stood just outside the chalk circle he had drawn, still hiding his face with his bangs.

He finally looked up at Dean, still trapped within the circle. Dean's stomach clenched.

Sam's eyes were filmed over in a bright, sparkling blue, and his face was completely void of emotion.

Before Dean could voice his surprise, or move, Sam's face contorted in anger and he grabbed Dean's shirt, yanking him closer. A decorative arrow plunged into his left shoulder, so deep he was positive it was sticking out the other side of his back. This time he didn't hold back a scream.

Dean collapsed to the ground at the same moment the spell was broken on Sam. He looked confused for a second and then found his fallen brother.

"Dean!" Blood was almost completely covering the inside of the chalk confines Dean was lying in. The speed at which the blood made its way outward frightened Sam to no end.

Luckily, Dean's fall hadn't taken him anywhere outside the chalk lines. If you could call that _luck._ Sam barely got a chance to assess his brother, or figure out what the hell had just happened, before blue lights sparked in and out of his vision, drawing his attention away. _Please let him be okay. I'm so sorry, Dean._

The room around him now swirled in distorted colors and shaped, like he was having a really bad trip. Then everything settled, and at first Sam couldn't tell what was different. But then he realized that the area inside the calk circle that Dean was in was in black and white and slightly unclear. _Like he's in an old forties horror film, _his mind supplied.

Then blue sparks exploded in his vision, and his body went completely numb.

--oo--

His body's feeling returned and the blue sparks faded from Sam's view. His surroundings slowly came into focus. The red carpets and expensive furniture gained clarity. Paintings and sculptures of pompous aristocrats filled empty spaces near the walls. A fireplace with a decorated mantel appeared in front of him. When everything was clear, Sam was alone in the old woman's mansion.

Dean was nowhere to be found. But where he had been, the amulet now lay in his place. Sam quickly scooped it up and put it in his pocket.

More blue sparks caught his attention and several little pixies appeared in front of him. _Jeez, these are fugly little bastards._ They all had spindly little blue bodies. Bat-like wings jutted out of their backs, bones even more pronounced through the thin membrane. Each one had a large bulbous nose and a scrunched up face. Their tails looked like a thin rope doubled over and connected at the tailbone.

Blue sparks popped up everywhere around the room, until Sam eventually counted over fifteen creatures.

Hunter and pixies all glared at each other, each waiting for the other to attack.

Quick as a western cowboy, Sam pulled his Taurus, which he had hidden in he waistline of his jeans, out and fired. The iron bullet squarely hit one of the pixies. It squealed and burst apart in a shower of sparks. The others screeched in anger, confused as to how this human was able to kill them.

They scattered and Sam trained his gun on a slow one, ending it in another burst of sparks. He was pleased to realize that they weren't smart when it came to fighting. Just being mischievous.

Sam was in full on hunter mode. Stealthily, he walked through the room searching for the rest of the pixies. He didn't have time for their games! Dean needed help. But the only way to help him now was to kill every last one of these things.

He saw something move in his peripherals and he jerked the gun in that direction and fired. Another squealed and burst apart. Five more launched themselves at him in a rage, magic sparking around them. He did a drop, roll, and fire maneuver, and grabbed a tail as the pixies flew past. He swung it around and smashed the helpless pixie into the other attackers with such force that they crashed into the ground, stunned.

Spells flew at him every which way, stinging and burning if they hit. Sam finished the ones on the ground and continued on, overpowering the nasty creatures and ignoring their attacks.

At last one remained. It regarded Sam with such hate and he returned the glare. It bared its little teeth, and then rocketed forward at the hunter. He quickly ducked and yanked it out of the air by its tail. He slammed it into the carpeted floor and held it in place with his foot. The gun was trained on the tiny body struggling to escape.

"Leave my brother alone." It hissed at him in rebellion and struggled harder. He pressed his boot down and yanked the necklace out of his pocket. Sparks of blue light were starting to form all around the room, slowly taking the shape of the ugly faeries. He had to finish this quickly. He was running out of time.

Sam began reciting the second part of the ritual, the amulet dangling over the pixie. This part, and the most important part, he had memorized. Rainbow light flared from the gem and he pressed it to the pixie's forehead. The skin it touched sizzled and smoked, and the pixie let out a high-pitched wail and it convulsed in agony. Then the noise and convulsions stopped and the tiny body went limp.

The growing sparks of blue converged to the limp body, which Sam had backed away from, and exploded outward, effectively sent back to whatever hell hole they had crawled out of. The amulet dropped to the carpet. The once beautiful Celtic design was now melted and warped. The gem Nazar inside was burnt black.

Sam stood up slowly, hardly daring to believe that it had worked. The once stately room was in ruins now, but Sam didn't care. The spiteful creatures would never hurt his brother again. _Dean!_ He had to get Dean back! He grabbed the ruined amulet and whispered the last three words he hadn't managed to say before the pixies disappeared. A softer light wrapped around him and the senseless, weightless feeling returned.

--oo--

Gradually the light faded and Sam blinked a couple times to clear the stars from his vision. The amulet crumbled in his hand and he let the pieces slip through his fingers.

His eyes frantically searched for Dean, and he found the fallen hunter exactly where he had been before he disappeared, still within the lines of the chalk circle.

Sam rushed over to his brother, and turned him over, cradling him in his arms. He sadly looked over the mess that was Dean. The side and shoulder had taken the most damage and were still bleeding. The side was bleeding worse than the shoulder, but only because the arrow was acting as a dam.

Gently, but firmly, Sam jostled Dean to wake him.

"Come on, Dean, please wake up." He patted the side of Dean's face. Sam's efforts were rewarded when he groaned and tried to swat the offending hand away.

"St'pit, Sam." He blinked a couple times to make Sam's face focus and struggled to sit up. "Are you okay? Did you get them?"

Sam smiled reassuringly. "Yeah, man. They're gone."

Dean nodded tiredly. "Kay good." His arms lost their struggle against gravity, and he fell heavily back against his brother. Well, he would have fallen heavily, if Sam hadn't known his stubborn ass could only take so much before it gave out.

"Would it kill you to just stay still for one second?" Sam groused.

"Probably. Don't want to find out."

Dean felt the eye roll and smirked. "Can you lean up against the couch for me?"

"Mhmm." He half scooted and was half dragged back slowly until he was settled against the edge of the overly expensive couch. His mind zoned out, and everything receded to a dull ache, which was easy enough to ignore.

Pressure on his side made the pain spike. "Agh! Son of a bitch!"

"Relax! It's okay, I know it hurts, but I gotta stop the bleeding," Sam said, keeping a firm pressure on the wound. The arrow injury worried him more than the side one, but he couldn't risk pulling it out just yet. _Keep talking, keep Dean distracted._

"What happened before…?" Dean knew Sam was referring to the pixie mind control thing, but he just didn't feel like explaining it. He closed his eyes and shook his head infinitesimally. "Later."

Sam nodded, though he knew Dean couldn't see. "Later," he said quietly. _Thank you, Sammy._

The sound of chuckling made Dean crack open one eye to glare at Sam. Sam read the 'what the fuck are you laughing at?' that was clearly written in Dean's eyes.

"Sorry, it's just that…" he took Dean's hand and pressed it to the shirt over the wound. "Here, hold this. Can you stand?"

He used two open eyes to glare at his brother more effectively. Sam hooked one arm behind Dean's good shoulder and the other around his waist. "It's just that," Sam grunted as he hoisted Dean up to standing, and took most of Dean's weight when Dean's traitor legs almost gave out on him.

_I'm gonna kill him,_ Dean thought. _As soon as the world stops spinning and I can walk by myself. Oh, he's in for it. _He was grateful for the slow pace that Sam set though.

"Well, it's just… come on, dude, Tinkerbells! It's kinda funny."

_Oh hell, he's not gonna survive the night. _"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

--oo--

"On three, ready?" Sam braced his left hand on Dean's left shoulder, just above the arrow he was gripping with his right hand. Dean relaxed his whole left arm, but desperately gripped the arm that was braced on his shoulder with his free hand.

Dean looked up at Sam quickly and nodded. The arrow shaft had been cut down to make it easier to remove, but it was still going to hurt like hell when it came out.

"One- two-" Sam yanked the shaft as hard as he could, and it slid out with no resistance. Dean could not stop a groan that was almost a yell, and his grip on Sam's arm became almost unbearable.

"Easy, it's okay, it's done," Sam said soothingly. His brother had leaned right into him, so Sam was supporting most of Dean's weight to keep him from falling off the bed.

"S-sam…" _That hurt like a __bitch_. Sam lowered him gently so he was lying down on the bed.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm going to stitch it up real quick and then you can sleep, okay?" Sam squeezed Dean's hand before releasing it and hurried to get the sutures ready. Dean was so exhausted that he was pretty much passed out by the time Sam was done.

"Sleep, Dean, I'll be here when you wake up." He didn't need to be told twice and let unconsciousness claim him.

Dean drifted comfortably in the haziness between sleep and consciousness. He could hear Sam's soft snore somewhere to his right, and subconsciously smirked. His little brother must have stayed up all night and then some if he was snoring at all. He was comforted by the sound, and it lulled him deeper into sleep.

The next time Dean became conscious, the smell of coffee met his nose. _Sleep or coffee? Definitely coffee. _He fully woke and opened his eyes, thankful that Sam had the curtains closed against the glaring sun. Unfortunately, his body also started to feel again, which meant pain throbbed through his body. He groaned.

"Dean? Are you awake?" Sam's face appeared next to him in an instant.

"Ugh. Shoulda picked sleep."

"You've been sleeping almost two days. 'Bout time you woke up."

"Aw, didn't know you cared. Where's my coffee?" Dean eased himself upright, glad that the initial pain had dulled down some.

"Coffee later, Dean. Have Gatorade and something to eat first."

"Yes, Mom."

--oo--

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean peeked his eyes open. "Yeah?"

"Did I do that to you?" Sam's body was tense, his grip on the steering wheel causing his knuckles to turn white.

"It wasn't you." He made it clear that ended the conversation, and shifted his body to a more comfortable position in the passenger seat of the Impala. Even Sam hadn't put up too much of a fight to stay and rest for another day. Neither of them wanted to stay in that weird ass town longer than necessary.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. "I didn't mean to, I don't-"

"Sam!" Dean snapped. "It wasn't you, man. There's nothing to forgive. Who knew those Tinkerbells could Obi Wan people? Seriously, forget it."

Sam drove in thoughtful silence for a bit. "Guess we should get tattoos preventing pixie possession now, huh?"

Dean snorted. "Bet you would like that, Samantha. You just want an excuse to get a hot little Tinkerbell on your ass."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, that's totally it, jerk."

"Bitch."

--oo--

A week later, Dean woke up to find Sam, as usual, awake and on the laptop. He walked into the bathroom, tugging his shirt off so he could take his wake up shower. He took a cursory glance in the mirror as he passed, and then scrambled back to look at his reflection.

"What the…?" On his upper right arm was a big colorful fake children's tattoo. Of Tinkerbell. Sparkles included. He followed the design from his arm onto his upper back and found little hearts and stars completed the effect.

The front door slammed shut. "SAM!"

The End

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